


Amnesia

by adrift_me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Arguing, Car Accidents, Detectives, F/M, Hospitals, Lies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if one day you have to be parted, because he has no idea who you are?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> This is the work were I want to put my biggest efforts right now. I hope I manage to make it interesting for both me and you. This is also a challenge for me because apart from writing this story, I translate it into English. I hope we have some good time! :) 
> 
> This work also has a tumblr. Please follow, ask your questions!  
> http://amnesiasherlock.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'll be also very happy to get some help from a native English speaker. I really need to clean up some word expressions and enlighten the work with a few specific words.

\- Good evening, Jane! – smiled John to his secretary. She smiled warmly back, nodding. Doctor threw his jacket on the numb tired shoulders, stretched and left for the street.

Evening was cool and rainy. Autumn has finally come into force, smashing golden leaves around the wet roads. A smell of rotten leaves, which people tend to like, this very autumn smell, was soaring in the air. John waited for the cab, got inside and placed himself on the backseat. His look was directed to the window. Friday evening – what a sweet word expression! The sound of it made the man smile happily.

Tired and without a proper sleep, he’s been dreaming about a cozy home silence and, perhaps, a cup of tea for the whole day. And there definitely must be Mrs Hudson, baking something in her kitchen. And the rain must increase knocking softly on the window glass. And once in forever Sherlock must be silent and calm, sitting at home without flickering in front of John. But you can’t have everything, as some wise people say.

Though John was lucky, since he got almost everything he wanted today. Except for Sherlock, this uncontrollable detective, who decided to crash all John’s hope for a calm cozy evening. When finally arrived home, John savored only half an hour of peace in his creaky armchair with a cup of tea. There was a silent clap and a glass clink-clank in the kitchen. Doctor turned around in his armchair and looked over the shoulder at his flatmate.

He was in the kitchen. His silken robe was hanging down the broad shoulders. Unkempt hair was curling. The kitchen table was all chocked up with samples in flasks; one of the microscopes was placed next to the sink, full of dirty dish. Another microscope was placed on the table, shining in the cold light of the lamp. John stood up and reclined on the doorjamb, watching Sherlock.

Holmes did everything with a natural grace. It could be a light hand movement, stretching out for a flask, or a lean to the microscope. Johnwatchedthedetectiveasifenchanted.

\- John, do not disturb me, - said Sherlock without raising his head. He was slowly and carefully turning a big screw. He was squinting as he did it, trying to see something under the lens. John ignored his impolite request as usual. Instead of leaving the kitchen immediately, he walked around the table, studying the samples. In one of the Petri dishes he found some pale gray metal. In another one there were golden crumbs. The third one had a few copper pieces. Unlike the rest of the samples, this one definitely had some shape before. On one of the pieces John noticed a deep engraving. Hisheartstoodstill.

\- Sherlock, please let me know where you got those copper pieces, - wondered John, trying to stop the arising storm inside him. He could guess what the thing was that Holmes Jr. took for his experiments. Sherlock shook his black curles irritably.

\- I found it in your room.

\- And you took it? Without asking for my permission?

\- It’s just an old coin. You can find a great variety of those in any antique shop. Are you collecting them? – Sherlock has finally raised his head, turning away from studying the sample, and gave John a cold look. His flatmate however wasn’t looking at Sherlock. His gaze was fixed on the copper in the dish. John’s mouth was opening and closing in awe. He took the broken coin with shaking hands and looked closer.

\- We were in university together. And we served in the army hand in hand. I never knew a man better than him. Sam died when he was shot in heart. All I had from him is this copper coin, which we found at the battlefield.

Sherlock braced himself up. On one hand, he felt sorry for John and his dead friend. On the other hand, the man couldn’t understand those sentimental remembrances from the past. People come and go, things stay and disappear. How can one grieve till the end of time? And here’s a new case where he needed copper, this coin can serve for the benefit of Great Britain.

This thought was spoken aloud to John. Doctor shook his head in disbelief. He looked at Sherlock’s face. This face, so beautiful and clever, belonged to the cruelest man on Earth today.

\- Sherlock, I got used to seeing many of your freaky ideas during the life in the same flat. I even accepted your shooting in the wall and experimenting in the kitchen, - John made a wide gesture around the room. Sherlock froze, listening to Watson, who was boiling as a kettle. – But there is one thing I can never accept and this is your cruelty.

The man banged his fist on the table. Sherlock look startled, his face lost the mask of coldness and pride. He was lost; he couldn’t understand why John is angry and why he thinks him cruel.

\- If you think that caring is not an advantage, then you are a complete idiot. We are humans because we have feelings, recollections, experience. You can’t just take and destroy someone’s memories! – John breathed heavily and spoke further, raising his voice with every sentence. – If you want to be a machine, fine, feel free to be! ButIamahuman. Thesearemymemoriesthatyoudestroyed. This is my grief and pain that you want to drown in a chemical acid. He’sgotacase! Acase! Damnyourcase!

\- But John, - pronounced Sherlock loudly, looking at his friend, - you can’t overreact like this. You know I’m not the best of the men and I have no idea about these feelings. But this coin was indeed used for a very important case. Imagine, this is the biggest scandal of the last decade – a replacement of the crown of the British Empire. You can’t help solving this case. If we solve it…

\- I don’t give a damn, - spat John, fighting his rage. – I have no interest in this case.

\- This little coin is more important to you than the British crown?

\- Yep. Yes, it is. This coin belonged to someone, who died right in my arms, bleeding, - said John hotly, gesturing wildly as he spoke. He shoveled the copper pieces in his hand and hid them in his pocket. Silence fell. Air was electrified with John’s screaming, his words were still hanging in the air; a tiny tear was wiped off with a rough hand. Sherlock lowered his head, his lips were moving as if he wanted to find some words of apology, but couldn’t find any. He breathed in to speak, but Watson simply raised his hand to stop the speech.

\- No. Don’t say a word. You remember how I’ve already told you that I accepted your detective and science freaking. But I won’t accept that you are a cold indifferent idiot.

John nodded to himself and left the room. This talk that lasted only a minute or two seemed the longest talk in his entire life. Man’s irritation agitated his body to the fingertips. He needed a walk to let the cool autumn wind swish all sad thoughts about Sam and Sherlock out of his head. Maybe after this walk he will cool down and talk to Sherlock again without spitting out insults and keeping his emotions inside.

Muffling into the warm fall jacket, John left Baker Street and quickly walked away along the street. The lanterns, arranged along the road, were softly lighting up the way. The man heard a slap of the front door – seems, Sherlock decided to follow his friend and catch up with him. John sped up, passed a little restraint where together with Sherlock some time ago they’ve been waiting for a killer to show up. Next to the restraint he saw a dark walkway where sat a pale skinny girl, one of the detective’s homeless. John jerked his shoulders angrily. He had a feeling that the whole London was soaking in Sherlock, each corner, each café. Even people weren’t those simple people; they were his objects for deductions and studying.

John couldn’t remember when Sherlock stopped being his strange flatmate, who was so different from all other people; but when he became the whole city, country. Hewasaheartofahugemechanism. HewasthebiggestpartofJohn’slife. Despite misunderstanding, Watson didn’t want to lose such a friend. He wouldn’t want to bury another close person who will leave only one memory. A memory as the mantelpiece skull is not the best memory.

Time went on and on. No one has been calling the army doctor by name, no one grabbed his arm or shoulder. He heard no steps behind himself. John let himself look around. Nothing he saw, there was only a deserted street. Only a young couple was walking on one side, on another he saw a company of some men. Watson stopped amidst the pavement, studying his way.

\- Sherlock could have certainly come back home, - thought the doctor, hiding his anxiety in the deepest corner of his mind. – In the end when was the last time Sherlock followed me to talk? It’s Sherlock, after all!

John relaxed and went on with his evening walk through the London streets. He had a much better mood when coming back home, and was even ready to talk to Sherlock and forgive him. Indeed Holmes Jr. has never expressed his feelings brightly. John smiled, forgiving his friend, and quickly walked towards his home.

John was surprised by noticing from a distance a crowd, a lot of light and conversations. Coming closer, he saw a car and its owner at the pavement edge, and then heard someone saying his name.

\- John! – came the voice of Gregory Lestrade, the Scotland Yard inspector. – You are here, good.

He looked around to notice an ambulance car. Some nurses were trying to put the stretcher inside the car. On the stretcher John saw a long body, dressed in a light silken robe. A pale hand with long graceful fingers was hanging from the edge of it. John shivered.

\- Don’tworry. He’llbefine, - Gregassuredhim, gazingattheJohn’sface. Doctor took his look off the marble-white hand and looked at the inspector.

\- How did it happen?

\- The car has driven out of the corner. It’s rainy these days, the road is wet. The driver lost control of his car and it flew off to the Baker Street. Obviously, Sherlock has walked out of the flat at this moment and was hit, - reported Lestrade, pointing at the wet slippery road, covered in mud. John addressed him an unspoken question. The man sighed and looked at the stretcher in the ambulance car doors. – Sherlock hasn’t regain consciousness yet. But be sure the doctors will do their best.

\- Thanks, Greg, - pressed out John and shook his friend’s hand.

“This is my fault”, - a silent voice spoke in John’s thoughts. He was sure that if he didn’t argue with Sherlock about his humanity, nothing would have happened. No one would have seen this terrible picture of the marble-pale hand, hanging helplessly off the stretcher’s edge. No one would have been hurt.

John wasn’t let inside the ambulance. The doors were closed in front of him, only the white doctor’s robe flashed brightly in the night darkness – and the ambulance left for the hospital.


End file.
